


Three's Family

by crewdlydrawn



Series: A Family Can Be Found [2]
Category: The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Children, Competition, Developing Relationship, Directly following season 1, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Family, Frank Being Soft, Frank and kids, Kissing, M/M, Multi, Open Relationships, POV Alternating, Post-Canon, Post-Canon Fix-It, Teasing, discussion of sex, in which Frank didn't leave, in which the Liebermans adopt Frank
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:42:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26705422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crewdlydrawn/pseuds/crewdlydrawn
Summary: What if Frank Castle didn't disappear after dropping off David at home?  What if, instead, he was gradually absorbed into the household?
Relationships: David "Micro" Lieberman/Sarah Lieberman, Frank Castle/David "Micro" Lieberman, Frank Castle/David "Micro" Lieberman/Sarah Lieberman, Frank Castle/Sarah Lieberman
Series: A Family Can Be Found [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1943464
Comments: 5
Kudos: 27





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Menirva](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Menirva/gifts).



"Is Frank going to be our new step-dad?"

"...You HAVE a dad," David nearly sputtered. "And I'm sitting _right here_..." He was even the one being asked the question to begin with.

"I know we have a dad," Zach countered, his tone and delivery completely unchanged, "I'm asking if he's gonna be our _step-_ dad."

David's mouth opened, but no words fell out of it. Across from him, on the other couch, Frank's hand was blocking a smile his shoulders couldn't hide as they gently shook. 

"You have to be married to be a step-parent... I mean," Leo turned to Sarah, who had reentered the room with a beer for Frank to counter the wine she and David had already opened, "don't you?"

Beer bottle passed from hand to hand, fingers trading spaces on the glass, and David caught sight of how that contact affected both Sarah and Frank. Small twitches in their arms as they parted, little pulls at the corners of their mouths, crinkling at the eyes... In another, undistracted moment, he would have smiled and joined their side of the room. Now, though... "Yeah," he confirmed, looking to close the subject off quickly, "you have to be married to be a step-parent, so, no."

"Can you marry two people?"

"Not in our state."

"LEO..."

"What?" His daughter looked up at him, not appearing chastised in the slightest, and maybe just a little bit... amused? "It's true."

David slipped an arm around Sarah's waist the second she sat down, as much to ground himself as to visibly remind the kids who their parents were. A very odd necessity. Regardless, no matter if it was the fifth or the five-hundredth time he'd felt the curve of her back against his forearm since he'd been home, it was still the not-enough-th. He'd been gone too long, and while they were putting forth a commendable effort to make up for that, there were still moments, motions, and actions that felt _hungry_.

"I think the question might be less a technicality, and more about if I'm stickin' around in the house," Frank offered, bottle tilted at his lips afterward. He side-eyed Zach, probably for confirmation, and both he and Leo nodded their agreement, promptly aiming their attention right back sharply on David and Sarah. David would be bringing up that particular piece of conversational assassination later, when the kids weren't around.

"And if he's in charge." 

At that, the warmth covering David's arm disappeared, and Sarah leaned forward to make quick work of gaining Zach's full attention. "What makes you think Frank would be in charge?"

David watched Frank's eyes twitch, threatening to widen, held down by the weight of carefully controlled brows. A smirk settled very lightly on his own lips, and he crossed his ankle over his knee away from Sarah, bouncing the foot lightly as he let her steer. If Sarah took the wheel, it was generally wisest—and most enjoyable—to go along for the ride.


	2. Chapter 2

"Where's Frank?" Sarah's husband was back, he was home, home and SAFE, and her eyes still traveled past him out the open door through which he'd only just passed. 

"He, uh..." David's voice trailed off as he shook his head, enough indication that Frank had chosen not to join them, despite both of their invitations. Only he hadn't been smart enough to drive away before the door had opened.

The van was still outside, and Frank's shoulders shifted in the driver's seat, visible from across the street that he was already putting it in gear, but Sarah was fast. Kissing David on the forehead, pushing him at their kids, she marched straight out, down the front walk, out past the driveway, and across the road to the driver's side door. Tires rolling an inch or two, she wondered for a moment if he'd really drive off without even a glance, but the van stopped, and so did Frank.

"Not staying for dinner?" she asked, despite the question and its planned answer being obvious already.

Yet to meet her gaze, Frank kept his hands on the wheel, though his fingers were shifty. "Yeah, that feels like a family thing. Y'know?"

"You're damn right it is." Sarah watched Frank's head nod almost too small for it to count. "So you'd better get your ass inside," she pointed back at the house, eyes never leaving his face, "because YOU, Pete Castiglione, Frank Castle, whatever you want to call yourself, are a part of this family."

Heartbeats and breaths taken in the few short moments it took for Frank to set the transmission to park and turn off the engine felt like several small eternities of tension, but the result was Frank staying. The result was that he didn't leave that afternoon, and at Sarah's insistence he didn't leave that night, and for the next few days there was something else, and another thing, a project, to coax him into 'just one more', until it became routine, that exchange. 

'They were safer left alone' was most prolific. Next was, ‘I’m only in your way’, and ‘you’ve got enough to worry about’, at which Sarah simply challenged Frank on whether he intended to act like one of her kids, or an adult. Debates like that one typically ended in Frank forming some sort of noncommittal sound in his throat and dropping it for the moment. 

Sarah liked Frank, she appreciated the energy he gave off, she liked the firm, supportive head he had with the kids, and she was well aware that the attraction that had led to the only kiss they’d shared in the kitchen before David had come home was still there. Frank was good looking, and there was a lightness to his laugh, to his humor and his wisdom, whenever they could distract the heavy weight that still sank into his bones through his shoulders most days. All of that was on her mind inside the same kitchen, as she and Frank worked together on dinner in quiet cooperation. 

She was also fully aware of the physical comforts Frank and David had shared while in hiding. David had given a lengthy confession, one that she had teased him about—not wanting Frank to kiss her, but so easily letting himself suck Frank off. While he claimed it was more about how much he’d missed her, missed her touch, her body, and needed the warmth and contact, Sarah wasn’t blind, nor was she ignorant. She was able to see the way each of them stiffened when their shoulders or arms brushed in the shared space of the house, and neither of them was as quiet in the shower as they may have thought when the kids weren’t home. They hadn’t done anything since coming home, and the tension was clear, nearly palpable.

It had taken a little time for Sarah and David, as well, to find their rhythm once again. It should have stood out in her mind that she had so easily compared her marriage and its sex life to her husband and his, what, his lover? Boyfriend? _Mister_?

That last term came to mind unbidden, and a laugh bubbled up too quickly for her to stifle it as she sat the paring knife down, not risking a sliced finger in the distraction.

“Some funny vegetables you got there, huh?” Frank’s teasing tone, that light layer on his gravelly, quiet voice, sounded from behind her. A quick glance back showed his dark brow raised, corner of his mouth ready to offer an appropriate smile, but a spark of concern—or was it caution?—in his eyes. His portion of the night’s work covered stir-fry chicken, and keeping an eye on the pot of pasta boiling at the back of the stove. 

“Uh, yeah,” Sarah automatically stalled, finishing off the carrots and dumping the contents of her bowl into the frying pan to soften up and season with the meat before they would add David’s sauce from the day before. They each would have contributed to dinner, a collaborative effort that felt as natural as any shared chores she and David had ever split in the last decade and change. “I mean,” realizing she had agreed that the vegetables were to blame, Sarah closed her eyes for a moment, back of her hand pressed to her forehead, “obviously not those.”

“Obviously, yeah,” Frank repeated, totally receptive in that maddeningly reassuring posture in which he seemed to live around them. It felt like she could tell him anything, safely, and she’d been taking advantage of that, albeit at times unintentionally, since he’d first shown up in front of her car. She’d never quite figured out if he did it fully intentionally, or if he was truly aware of the effect he had, and she wasn’t about to ask.

High-formed bubbles threatened to overrun the edge of the pasta pot, and Sarah was quick to reorient herself back to the task until they at least had one final conglomerate pot simmering every element together with David’s sauce. She’d almost let herself forget the near embarrassment until Frank’s voice cut through the list of evening tasks yet undone that had taken over her active thoughts. 

“You seem like you got something on your mind, Sarah… anything you want to talk about?” 

First impulse directed her to demure, to change the subject before it was fully broached, but then Frank’s rough hand covered hers, just for a moment, a small pat added as if to augment the more familiar form of contact. All words took a dive straight out of her head for a handful of seconds, her fingers twitching once on their own again. “No, yeah, I was just…”

When she hesitated, Frank’s face scrunched in a passive dismissal, an ‘out’ to let her off any hook she might possibly have bitten into. “S’alright,” he added to the look, turning off the heat and beginning the transfer of the meal to plates. “You wanna get the kids?” She could tell he’d included David in that group, and Sarah smiled in spite of herself.

Almost without thinking, Sarah leaned up on her toes to press a quick ‘thank-you’ kiss to Frank’s cheek before heading out of the room. Though she paused, she didn’t look back, not meeting Frank’s eyes again until they had a table between them, kids taking up a large portion of focus and attentions. 

David took dish duty, with Frank occupying Zach and Leo with thankfully appropriate stories from his travels and time overseas. While they hadn’t had an overwhelming number of adults-only discussions that covered details of Frank’s past, Sarah was familiar enough with the concept of current marine deployment to imagine that he had to do some careful navigation for himself, as well. 

As she looked on after clearing the table, Frank held out his hands in a circle that could easily encompass Leo’s entire face, and Sarah watched her daughter’s eyes go wide in shock.

“No WAY,” Leo exclaimed, a fair bit louder than the current level of conversation.

“Way,” Frank confirmed, the casual slang response amusing in his gruff. 

“That’s bigger than you can step on, though,” Zach chimed in, to a rumble of agreement from Frank.

“Did you scream?”

“They’re _soldiers_ , Leo,” Zach shot in quickly, his face scrunched and incredulous. 

“Yeah, we were soldiers,” Frank nodded, Zach ready to spit out an I-told-you-so to his sister, but their storyteller wasn’t done, “and half of my men were up on their cots, all desperately searching eyes on the floor, the other half out the barracks door yellin’ their heads off like the apocalypse was comin’.” A laugh cracked his voice at the end, lending vindication to Leo and a pleased enough laugh from Zach, no doubt just at the image. Sarah had to admit, it was over the top, but dinner plate sized spiders sounded plenty nightmarish to her to warrant every bit of the story as it was told.

A pair of arms slipped around her waist, hands clasped loosely at her belly, and David’s chin rested on her shoulder. “He’s good with them,” his voice was soft, kept from the next room’s ears.

Sarah hummed, holding his arms lightly. “He is. So are you,” she added, bumping her head lightly against his. And he was; for that, Sarah had always been grateful. With all their family had been through, they were strong, maybe stronger for it. Strong enough to expand its boundaries.

“Lucky kids we got,” David’s hair tickled her neck as he kissed it. “Three good parents. …What?”

Sarah had turned sharply, startled by the word. “ _Three_ parents?” she repeated back, a tease as much as a question. “Gotten quite attached, there, have you?”

David only sputtered, and Sarah mercifully let him off the hook, for the moment, turning in his hold to kiss and fully occupy his confused mouth.


	3. Chapter 3

Pete Castiglione was a free man. That is, ‘free’ to be stalked as much as the next American, and probably a little bit more than that. A lot more. Yet, despite undoubted surveillance, there were no government agencies actively breathing down his neck. It meant more easy breathing for himself, at least in that respect. There were a lot of different ways in which a person needed air.

Frank Castle, strictly speaking, would never be a free man. Frank Castle was tied up in conspiracies, shootings, murder, and some might even say treason. But Frank Castle was dead, officially. Trying to live as Pete when those who’d taken him in knew he was Frank was proving to be a balancing act of a challenge, but he was up for it. 

If it was distractions he needed, there were plenty in the Lieberman household. 

While David wasn’t technically employed, he had started making an effort to connect with companies who might be in need of his services. Most of what he’d been through in the past year was classified, but enough news had gotten out that certain groups were now aware of his abilities. None of that actually required David to leave the house, however, allowing a constant presence in the building, or at least in the den. That income as well as a government stipend he’d managed—at Sarah’s stubborn insistence after their ordeal—were enough to take some pressure off of Sarah’s previous two jobs. She still kept the administrative assistant position she’d gained at a locally based pharmaceutical company, as it had the better benefits package. She was home in the mornings to see the kids off to school, and it was on David to pick them up, which he did. 

Mornings were a flurry of activity for which Frank was grateful. Waking up to life, even if it was Zach complaining about his shoes, or Leo loudly unable to find one last item for school, was a hell of a lot better than the silence of hiding out on his own, or the sounds of a warzone, or even the tents full of his brothers in arms. This life was busy but simpler, peaceful, and while it didn’t need Frank for it to work, they worked him in all the same.

For the first few months, Frank had made it a point to find night-work. Despite David and Sarah insisting that he stay, finding ridiculous excuses, reassuring him that there was space, he had kept out of their hair. Of course, that hadn’t been just for their benefit. Being out of sync from the family’s routines kept him separate, at a safe distance. It kept attachments low, and expectations even lower. So he had slept while they were awake, and had worked while they’d slept. Mostly odd jobs, constructions crews when he could, places that didn’t look too closely and didn’t care even if they did. 

It had been Leo that mentioned it, first. She had been working on a project for school, up way later than either her or Zach typically were, their parents certainly already fast asleep, and she’d caught Frank on his way down the hall towards the spare bedroom. 

“Hey,” she’d whispered, her door open just a couple of inches, blue light from her laptop illuminating her cross-legged form on top of her bed. The covers hadn’t even been opened yet.

Stepping over to the doorframe, conscious of the soft creak beneath his feet, Frank had leaded a sore shoulder against the wood. “I thought all-nighters were a high school thing,” he’d quietly sent back, voice not quite a whisper, but hushed. 

“It’s a freshman class,” she’d explained, with not even a hint of inflated ego at working above her grade level. 

“I see.” 

Moving the computer so it wasn’t directly between them, anymore, Leo had sat up straighter, fixing her gaze on Frank. “You should come to dinner, sometime.”

Frank had laughed quietly, just at how the suggestion struck. “You know I’m living here, right? Usually you invite people who _don’t_.”

Leo had shrugged. “You invite people who never eat dinner with you.” It had been pointed, yet still innocent of malice. 

“I work while you’re doing dinner.”

That innocent face had tilted, and had blinked smartly at him. “Mom says you can work whenever you want to, so that’s a cop-out.”

Staring at her for a moment, Frank had had to bite back a smile just at how much of Sarah and David the kid had going for her. “Alright,” he’d agreed, after. “I’ll come to dinner tomorrow.”

“Today, technically.” She’d grinned as she’d plucked the laptop back up.

“Go to sleep, kiddo.”

“Goodnight Frank.”


	4. Chapter 4

Family dinners weren’t every day; sometimes schedules clashed, sometimes the kids had school events or sleepovers, or any of them were just too tired to commit to the whole thing and they defaulted to leftovers or everyone-for-themselves. Mostly, though, Frank joined in. Leo had been particularly satisfied about the first time Frank had changed his work schedule, and had made a big deal about their added full chair. David had a feeling she’d talked to him, but neither of them had actually said anything about it.

While not exactly wrapped around their little fingers, Frank certainly was weaker to the kids’ combined wheedling and requests than he was to David and Sarah. Especially David. He and Sarah had come to something of an agreement, regarding Frank, and David was losing.

If it had been left up to David's libido, he and Sarah would have found themselves in bed the same night he'd come home. To her own admittance, she’d felt much the same. It was never so simple, though, and it did take them a couple of weeks of being back in rhythm, of knowing one another past the months and months that they'd lost. Their bodies, while functionally similar to those that had stood under the chuppah all those years ago, had lived through enough trauma and stress to be transformed into facsimiles of strangers.

As it was, months into their new reality, and that night was only the second that Sarah had led him to bed for anything other than sleep. Leo and Zach were down for the count, and Frank had made his way already to the spare room—HIS room, really. David certainly had no designs to kick him out, and Frank had begun to settle into the excuses they kept coming up with for him to stay. Regardless, he and Sarah were 'alone' enough to relax into one another.

They hadn't bothered to undress all the way beforehand, nor had they deigned to put anything back in place once they'd finished, simply leaving themselves half-tangled in the sheets and half tangled in each other's limbs. David reveled I'm feeling the press of Sarah's body against his, the smell of her hair, even with new conditioners. His finger ran through those fragrant locks, dampened only slightly from their activity. Showers would be good, later, probably.

"So I've been thinking," Sarah began into the comfortable quiet, circling her fingers over his collarbone and pecs.

"This sounds dangerous for me."

Her chuckle shook David's chest and stomach along with hers. "It might be."

"We're being cryptic, now?" he accused, rubbing at her side and knowing much better than to tease a tickle in his vulnerable position. "I thought we agreed to leave the vague communication to Frank."

“True,” Sarah agreed before raising herself up off of the bed, hands pressed on either side of his torso as she looked down at him, “so let me be frank.”

“Okay,” David shifted the weight resting on his lower back, and feigned a surprised gasp. “Frank, what are you doing in our bed?”

Sarah stifled a giggle, though it was still quite clear. “It’s funny how close you are to guessing my thoughts.”

Having opened his mouth to offer a retort of some kind, David stopped, though not before an undignified and stunted squeaking sound made its way out. “Wait, are you…”

Propping her arms, folded, across David’s chest, Sarah placed her chin on top of her hands, peering up at David. There was innocence settled on her features, but he could see right through the act that it was. “So, Frank’s staying in the house, we agree on that.” It wasn’t a question, but David nodded anyway, so she’d continue. “What if we _did_ invite him here?”

After a very brief moment of confusion over her wording, David found himself with a mind flooded with images. First, his own memories of the times he and Frank had shared the cot in his bunker. Next, all of the times he’d thought about Frank since they’d come home, including the times he’d touched himself because Frank couldn’t. Finally, the memory of seeing the surveillance readout of Frank and Sarah kissing turned itself into the two of _them_ touching, his mind comparing the knowledge of each of their bodies, combining it—

“Hey Mikey, I think he likes it.” 

Heat had risen to David’s cheeks, but less from embarrassment over being caught than genuine excitement. “He does, he does,” he joked. “But how, exactly?”

With a wrinkle winding up the side of her nose, a look that David had fallen in love with the moment he’d first witnessed it years ago, Sarah was silent for several moments. “Well, we don’t want to scare him off.”

“Fat chance of that,” David’s voice was flat, dismissive. It earned him a pinch dangerously close to his nipple. 

“Yes, he’s very brave, obviously,” she patronized, “but he’s not exactly brazen with romance and sex when it comes to either of us, now is he.” Again, it wasn’t a question. “We’d probably need to go one at a time, first…” Her tone lightened, trailing off into her thoughts, and David wished, not for the first time, that he could see into whatever images she might have been conjuring along with it.

“Romanc—” David shook his head at the idea, though he imagined it was nowhere near outside of Frank’s wheelhouse to be a sappy romantic. That is, given the right conditions. “Me, then,” he answered her unfinished idea. When she offered him a questioning look, he continued. “Because… because we’ve already… you know…”

“Fucked?”

David’s eyes unconsciously snapped towards the door, as if he would find a pair of shocked children’s eyes staring back at him.

“You realize we are lying here, naked as the day we were born, sweaty and a little sticky, from _having sex_ , right?” He was so glad he could amuse his wife so. “Also, why do you assume he’d go for you, first?” There was a challenge in her eyes, a spark that sent a peculiar thrill through him.

“Well,” he began, feeling like he was over-explaining the joke by that point, “because I’ve got the advantage. Because we’ve already done it—”

“Fucked.”

“— yes, thank you, since we’ve already _fucked_ , he’s more likely to do that again. Besides, you’re my _wife_ , and he’s an honorable man.” While it wasn’t really a ‘and that’s that’ kind of situation, and Sarah certainly appeared undeterred, David was certain of himself.

At least, somewhat certain, with that amount wavering the more Sarah gazed at him with amusement in her eyes. “Honorable, yes. Like committing adultery with my husband?” Her eyes sparkled with mischief, and any debate on that particular vein would be lost before he started. “I propose a competition. Whoever Frank goes for first, wins.”

David didn’t even have to think about whether or not to accept. If he won, he slept with Frank. If he lost, _Sarah_ slept with Frank. As it turned out, his dick was thoroughly interested in either concept. Barely enough air sat between their faces, but he stuck his hand out in offering, just the same. Sarah shook it, with a chuckle.

“You’re on.”


	5. Chapter 5

They finally had an outing with Frank all to themselves, and Leo found herself unsure of their chosen destination. She’d never been to a paintball park before, and while she didn’t want to start an argument about it, especially because of Frank, she wasn’t too sure she wanted to be using ‘guns’.

“Girls just don’t like getting all messy,” Zach opined, lacing his boost while Leo tried to find an older pair of sneakers to use.

Her eyes rolled so hard it almost hurt. “It’s not about the _mess_ , you dork, I can handle _that_.” Exclaiming triumphantly, Leo finished her spelunking into the back of the bottom of the closet and withdrew a ratty pair of Reeboks that still fit her feet, but weren’t fit for school anymore. She knew it had been a good idea to keep them around, even if Mom had claimed she’d never use them.

“Alright, alright.” Frank herded them out the door and into his pickup. Being older had its advantages, and Zach found himself riding center bench seat on their way out.

The subject of whether or not Leo could handle mess came back up while they were getting their gear on. “Just don’t come cryin’ to us if you get paint in your hair, today,” Zach teased, clicking the last of his pads in place.

Instead of a verbal reply, Leo set her mouth in a firm line, and shot her loaded paintball rifle at Zach’s foot. In typical little brother fashion, he overreacted, howling in a complaint aimed definitively in Frank’s direction.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” boomed from behind Leo, a large hand covering the top of her paint gun and aiming it directly towards the ground. “Looks like we need to have a talk about friendly fire and trigger discipline…”

“Yeah, but it was on purpose!” Zach scoffed in argument against the lesson.

“Sure as hell was.”

“Language.”

“Word discipline,” Leo smirked, earning a roll of Zach’s eyes.

“Alright,” Frank interrupted, stepping between them, “focus, team. If we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna do it as a unit, got it?” They both nodded, and allowed Frank to relay the basics of an attack strategy against their opponent group. 

As they reached their starting point, Frank pointed two fingers at his eyes, then aimed them toward the side that Leo was to begin at. To Zach, he made a slicing motion towards the other side. Frank himself was to go forward down the middle, drawing fire with a superior ability to hide and dodge, from experience. 

The two of them could see him through the false fog, the strobing and roving overhead lights, as he rolled, tumbling his way across the obstacles. Leo could hear the pop of the fake guns going off, and the distinctive plaintive laments as two of the opposing four’s bodies were hit, taking them out of play. _Perfect_ , she thought, _one left for each of us._

With a whistle sounding from Frank, Leo and Zach rounded the last barriers in their path, from which all fire had been aimed at Frank, and simultaneously took out the last two of the other team hiding behind it. Officially ending their round was an air siren and rotating red lights mounted on the ceiling going off in unison.

Helping each other off of the ground, the other team shook their heads in what was clearly a mix of disappointment and surprise. Leo let out a giggle at hearing one of them mutter about bringing in professionals being unfair without warning people first. Zach nearly bounced his feet right out of gravity’s hold on his boots.

“Can we go again?” he practically begged at Frank.

Frank ruffled his hair, pretending to think it over for a second, despite Leo knowing not only did they have a fair amount of time available, but that he wouldn’t want to give up so soon. “Whatd’ya say we go ‘til we lose?”

“YES!”

They went four more rounds, until a birthday party arrived. That birthday party just happened to be for a nine year old girl. All of her guests were girls her age, all with matching pink camo, and pink paint swatched beneath their eyes. If it had been a movie, Leo thought that they would have arrived amidst a cloud of steam, and of course, walking in slow motion. Zach’s reaction already felt rather cliché, with his eyes widening, his jaw slowly dropping, and his mouth twisting with disdain.

“Oh, come ON,” he whined, turning to Leo as if it were somehow her fault that the group had appeared. “We can stop now, right?” After meeting Leo’s eyes, he took his plaintive face to the court of Frank, feigning an exaggerated drop to his shoulders. “I’m tired…”

Frank, however, wasn’t having it. “You wanna call it quits, now?” A dark brow arched with suspicion. “You weren’t tired a moment ago, so I can only assume that you’re full of it, and you’re feeling intimidated by those pink soldiers.”

“Nuh-uh!”

“Their pink won’t rub off on you, you know,” Leo dropped dryly. “The paint will still be the same color as always when it hits you.”

“It hasn’t _hit_ me yet,” Zach’s chin rose, smug. Both Leo and Frank wore matching expressions as they looked down as one, to pointedly stare at Zach’s shoe. “That. Doesn’t. Count!” he howled, stressing each word in increasing emphasis.

Crossing her arms, Leo shifted her weight more to one leg. “If you’re scared of getting beat by a bunch of girls, you don’t have to play.”

Zach didn’t have words right away, and Leo didn’t even have to look at Frank to know that he was holding back laughter. 

“Well?”

“…Well, what if we hurt them? Isn’t that like… wrong, or something?”

Leo put a hand on Frank’s arm, to keep his sharp inhale from turning around into a lecture on its way back out. “How ‘bout this,” she started, glancing over to where the party was excitedly going over the rules with a supervising staff member, “I’ll go battle on the girls’ side, and it’ll just be you two against all…” she had to count, then, and was pleased to announce the result, “…eleven of us. That is, if they’ll have me.”

Zach was silent for a moment, then he huffed. “Your funeral,” he muttered, stepping to stand at Frank’s side. 

Leo grinned, even wider when Frank winked at her, and jogged over to the birthday girl. A short greeting, pleasant wishes, and explanation later, and Leo had herself ten camo-rocking party pals ready to face off against the boys.

It was a massacre.

Sooni, the birthday girl, was clearly no stranger to paintball strategy, and to that specific course. Neither were over half of her invited friends. Leo didn’t have to explain Frank’s strategies to them—they pegged him as military right off the bat, and divided themselves accordingly. She was assigned to help out a pair of newbie twins, their dark hair tightly wound out of the way in matching double french braids. 

While they approached the field of battle as a long line, as soon as the siren sounded and Frank and Zach momentarily dropped behind a set of blocks, their throng split into three units, flanking and winding around the obstacles, ready to pounce. Leo and her two companions acted as decoys, exaggerating shushes at each other, as if they were discussing a plan and trying to hide. They shot a few giggles over their shoulders for full effect, though they became real enough at their own act.

Listening hard for the crunching of boots in the rocky sand that filled the course’s floor, Leo took a deep breath and then popped up, pulling her trigger as fast as she could.

She and Zach cancelled each other out in seconds.

“Aw, man!” he complained. “It’s just you.”

“Good to see you, too, bro.”

The twins left her, then, and joined their fellows as a cacophonous, screeching war cry erupted from the middle of the battleground. Frank was surrounded, hands in the air, laughing.

“I surrender, I surrender!” he yelled out. “Don’t shoot!”

Screams turned to crisp disappointment, a far more harmonious ‘awww’ chorusing over the girls like a wave. There was no petulance, no worded complaints, just reluctant acceptance. Leo had a passing thought that Zach could learn a thing or two from them.

Frank waited until most of the troop had already turned away before he called out, “Nah, just kidding—take your best shots!” Dropping his paint gun, Frank took a menacing stance, knees bent, back bowed forward, hands splayed out like an incoming wrestler.

A cheer barely made it through the party’s participants before the popping sound of shot after shot reigned in the air, including a shout of, “take no prisoners!” from the birthday girl, herself. By the time all was quiet, there were ten grinning, laughing, and happy party goers, and one _very_ paint-splattered Frank.

“…I’m not sure Mom’s gonna want you in the car like that,” Zach warned, surveying the damage as they put away their borrowed equipment. Aside from the vest offered by the establishment, Frank’s shirt, pants, boots, arms, and neck were fairly mottled with varying degrees of color. Truly, only his hair had been spared. 

Looking over his arms, torso, and legs, Frank gave a half-turn. “How’s the back?” Miraculously, having willingly surrendered had paid off in one respect; the backs of his clothing were clean. “That’ll be enough for your mom,” he assured.

“Yeah,” Zach mocked, “just wait ‘til you bring that in the _house_.”

Narrowing his eyes, not having turned them in just yet, Frank turned his paintball gun on the ledge on which it rested, sending a close-range splat to Zach’s chest. The squealing shout that left him had Leo and Frank laughing all the way to the truck.


	6. Chapter 6

A so-called ‘master bath’ should be a sacred space. When a homeowner is privileged enough to have two working bathrooms, one should be devoid of kid presence. Untouched, unlittered, nothing missing unless an actual adult misplaced it.

And yet.

“Agh!” Sarah cried out, pressing her palm to the crown of her head to soothe it, though it did little good. She had already struck the same spot, or directly beside it, three times in the past five minutes, bent over and digging through the cabinet space under the sink.

“We can wait,” Frank’s soft tone sounded off above and behind her. “Or, I can just use a—”

“You’re not using a machete,” Sarah cut him off, sharp and admonishing, parental. Dark eyes stared down at her blankly for a second before the corner of his mouth twitched. “Stop that.” The order came paired with a waggled index finger. If he’d been David, he would have gotten a smack to the shin for his trouble. Frank just held up his hands in defeat.

He had been the one in the supplies, first. Sarah had heard the intermittent buzz of David’s beard trimmer, and discovered Frank trimming up the undergrowth of his own neck forest when she’d investigated. The beard itself suited him, and even more so once it was shaped closer to his jaw line. Sarah had watched from inside the bedroom, until she realized he knew she was standing there, meeting her eyes in the mirror.

A compliment had been halfway out of her mouth when he’d raised his hand towards his scalp. “Wait!” The word was blurted, bubbling sharply, and it startled Sarah as much as it caught Frank off guard.

“I shouldn’t?” He gestured, with the buzzing trimmer, towards the top of his head. At Sarah’s quick step forward in response, he offered a laugh at her expense, making the same motion again, and a third time, in a teasing fake-out until she walked forward to simply take the trimmer from his hand.

Switching the motor off, she unplugged the cord. “I can trim it, you know… then you can keep some of the style in it.” Free hand rising, she reached to comb lightly through the thick, unruly locks that covered his head. “You won’t have to just buzz it off.”

Frank had become very still the moment she’d touched his hair, and though those soulful eyes of his had first locked with hers, they aimed anywhere else shortly after. She thought she saw a twitch in his fingers, maybe a reflex to reach up for her hand, but he didn’t follow through. Smirking inwardly, Sarah found it funnier that she hadn’t even been _trying_ to flirt with him.

Not at first, anyway.

After he’d agreed, Sarah realized she didn’t know where her scissor kit was. Or, more accurately, it wasn’t where she ‘knew’ it was. The lower sink cabinet had that ‘rummaged through’ look to it that storage spaces gained once kid-hands were finished their wild goose chases. Ten minutes and four head-strikes later, and she finally had in hand the tools she needed.

With Frank settled on a small stool, his long legs canted far to the sides to avoid hitting his knees on the bathroom counter, Sarah combed through his hair, getting a sense of his cowlicks. Reaching the thick locks that curled behind his ears, she let a few wind around her fingers. 

“You know,” she met Frank’s eyes in the mirror, both hands fingering over the locks, “we could keep these… even just a little of them. What do you think?”

Frank offered a half-smile through his trimmed beard. “I think you’re biased.”

Thick locks slid through her fingers as she shrugged. “I admit, I do have a preference and attraction for curls…” 

“I trust you,” Frank offered, giving her free reign over his styling. She took those reigns and ran with them, keeping casual conversation going as if she were a professional in a salon. Frank took it in stride, keeping his head remarkably still, turning when she asked, tilting this way, that way. Halfway through, she decided to take advantage of that.

Snip, snip, comb. “David told me what you did,” snip, snip, comb, “in the bunker.”

Though her hands hadn’t stalled, their motion steady, repeating in the same cadence and rhythm, she kept an eye on him through the mirror. She was proud of the twitch in his cheek.

“David thinks about it, I know he does. I can tell.” Top of his head done, she shifted to the sides. Her voice remained steady, the same tone as she’d started with, casual, conversational. “From what I’ve seen, I’m pretty damn sure you do, too. The way you are around each other…”

“What about you?” Frank hadn’t moved, stock-still under her scissors, only his eyes angled up to meet hers in their reflection. 

“What do you mean?” Obviously she thought about it, to some extent, if she were asking the question.

“Do you _think_ about it?”

It was a soft question, not so much clarifying as it was repurposed, a reorienting of the exchange. Sarah’s breathing quickened, unbidden, but her hands stayed steady as she finished up the back of his hair, combing her fingers through the curls she’d left. He was on _her_ hook, not the other way around, but she needed to be careful, or she would lose her clear lead on David. 


	7. Chapter 7

“I’ve thought about it.” Her words were almost hesitant sounding, though in a way that Frank was fairly certain was feigned. 

“It don’t bother you?” Cuts and snips were done, the debris brushed off of Frank’s shoulders and onto the floor. A small towel Sarah had draped around his shoulders had caught most of the rest, though he’d need a good wash to find all of the errant clippings. Still, he remained on the stool, not facing her directly but letting the mirror be their mediator. 

“Bother…?” A twitch ran through one of her cheeks, just barely tugging at the corner of her lips, bobbing the end of her nose. “No. I mean, David and I have always had a very,” she paused, seeming to try to pick the best word, “ _fluid_ kind of concept, about our relationship.”

“Open marriage?” David had already relayed enough of their previous arrangements for him to feel comfortable discussing it.

Sarah’s smile was almost shy looking, but Frank thought he could see a coy turn in it. “I don’t think we’ve ever used that term, but I guess so, huh. It’s something we’ve played with after discussing it.”

As she stepped to the side to clean off the kit’s tools, Frank stood, replacing the stool in the corner of the bathroom, and checking her handiwork in the mirror. “So he should have discussed it, first, but you’re not mad about it.”

“He couldn’t ask permission, being dead at the time.” The words were flat, but Frank knew she’d already worked past most of her resentment regarding David’s time in hiding. 

Something else clicked, then.

“Did you feel guilty about kissing me because you couldn’t talk to him about it, or because you thought he was gone?”

Watching for them, he noticed the conflicting expressions flickering over her features. “I, uh…” Self-conscious for a moment, Sarah tucked a few loose strands of hair back behind her ear. “Both, really. First, I felt guilty because I hadn’t discussed it, and then doubly guilty because he was dead, and I _couldn’t_ discuss it, or ever again, and…”

Frank nodded, gently touching her shoulder as a signal she didn’t have to over-explain. Her hand crossed over her chest to cover his, and he felt the contact tingle over his skin. 

“You kissed back, you know,” Sarah accused, her tone more tease than malice, “and you _knew_ David was still alive. So really,” she rested her hip against the edge of the countertop, arms crossed lightly, “who has more to feel potential guilt over, there… me or you?”

Caught off guard, Frank blinked at her, and then laughed. “So you definitely _have_ put thought into it.”

“It’s definitely a possibility.” Her expression retained its sass, but Frank could see her cheeks start to pink up when he plucked her hand from where it had tucked beneath the opposite arm, holding it lightly. 

_____

Rough skin scratched ever so slightly against her smoother knuckles, the lightest of squeezes just registering as more than a twitch, following. 

“And?” Frank was being about as bold as she could ever expect him to be, having not yet been extended an explicit invitation.

“And,” turning her hand palm-up, Sarah touched over Frank’s, in turn, “I’ve thought about doing it again. Knowing David would be okay with it, this time.” That, which had been quickly added for reassurance, had gotten Frank’s attention focused.

“You ask him?”

“We’ve… discussed.”

The man looked so adorably perplexed, Sarah couldn’t hold her coy façade any longer. It wasn’t really ‘her’ anyway. “We may have made a bet to see who could get to you first.”

“…You _what?”_

If pressed, in the moment, Sarah might have been of the opinion that Frank’s expression alone had been worth the scheming between her and her husband. As it was, though, a mere facial reaction hadn’t been her true aim. Instead, she continued on. “You heard me.” It was a challenge, if anything.

Head tilted, Frank looked away, and then let out a huff of amusement. “That would explain David nearly ambushing me from inside the shower stall…”

“He jumped on you?” It was nearly a screech, and she had to restrain her tone.

Frank laughed solidly. “Nothing violent,” he clarified, his eyes still crinkled and half sparkling with his laugh. “I didn’t know he was in there, and as soon as I close the door, he starts the water and asks if I want in.” 

It was Sarah’s turn to laugh, but then she paused. “…Did you?”

“I wouldn’t mind none,” he shrugged, “but I was sure he thought I was you, so I lit out of there. Figured when he didn’t say nothin’ about it that he was embarrassed. Looks like I probably had that wrong.” 

They both had a good chuckle at David’s expense, but Sarah hadn’t given in yet, especially after learning that Davis had already begun his own offensive before she had. That in mind, she stepped forward, closing the space between her and Frank, her hand still touching his, fingertips shifting along his skin. “You never really answered my question.”

“…You asked a question?”

“Pretty sure I did…”

Frank’s body turned to angle straight-on toward her, free hand taking gentle hold of her left. “What was it?” Frank’s voice was quiet, some might have interpreted it as more of a croak, but the rumble to it was familiar to her, its deciphering old hat by then.

Letting him have her left, Sarah reclaimed her right hand, raising it to touch over his freshly shaven cheek, feeling the tendons tighten in his jaw as he stayed still otherwise. Her toes nearly brushing his, Sarah raised her heels to gain a bit of height for her endeavor, stopping just short of closing towards Frank’s mouth. “I think I asked if you still wanted to kiss me,” she breathed out over his chin. 

Above that chin broke a lopsided smile that nearly had Sarah teetering on her feet. It was ridiculous, so boyish, so mischievous, and way too attractive. Still, she held her ground. 

“I’m absolutely sure you never asked that,” rumbled through thick lips. A nose that had painfully obviously been broken too many times tapped gently against her own, settling beside it with Frank’s forehead in contact with hers. His breath was warm when he spoke again. “but I’d be happy to answer, anyway.”

Sarah’s fingers curled around the back of Frank’s neck, at least as far as they could reach, half ending up tangled with the curled locks she’d just lobbied to save. _Good work there, Sarah_. 

Next thoughts flew momentarily out the window as Frank’s mouth covered hers, sealing completely over her lips in a delicate pressure that belied the mountain of muscles beneath her fingertips. She had to complement it, holding on tightly as she rose more on her toes to press forward against his mouth, a wide hand coming to her rescue against the small of her back when she began to lose her balance.

Both hands free, she threaded them behind Frank’s head, imagining how easy it would be to hop up into his arms, strong limbs so readily able to receive her, support her, touch her in return. Her body steadily heated over the desire for it. 

About ready to slip her tongue between his lips, Sarah found herself suddenly aloft, Frank having maneuvered her back by the waist, thus having to fully support her when her feet failed to. For his part, he _mostly_ held back a grin, and _almost_ looked sheepish over it all. She noted that her feet had yet to hit the floor, however.

Refusing to appear undignified, Sarah kept from grabbing at him, relaxing her hands further out over his shoulders. “Something wrong?” Eyelashes batted innocently.

“No,” was almost more laugh than it was enunciated. “Nothing’s wrong, trust me. I just… had an idea.”

“Does it involve putting me down, or getting back to business?”

“Neither—uh, the first, then the second?” Her expression must have shown more confusion than she even meant, as he laughed again, pressing a quick kiss to her lips before setting her down at last. “I’m thinking, what if we wait? ‘Til later, when David’s around…”

Light dawned on Sarah’s face, and she let go of Frank’s arms to cover a giggle, like a schoolgirl. “And not tell him?”

“And not tell him.”

“Genius.”


	8. Chapter 8

Movie night. Adult movie night. Not ‘adult’ movie, but a movie that didn’t have to be of an appropriate rating and content for minors. So… movies for adults.

If David were honest with himself, it didn’t matter what the title was, so long as it had some cursing and some dialogue that didn’t include talking animals. 

They got halfway through before both he and Sarah started to get sleepy. It was barely 8:30, which was downright infuriating. He offered to get popcorn, sodas, beers, anything to keep them going, but Sarah beat him to his feet, and stole Frank along with her. Choosing not to question not having to move, David put his feet up on the table as soon as their backs were turned. 

“Feet off the table!” sing-songed over Sarah’s shoulder from the kitchen door. 

Rolling his eyes as lovingly as one can, David took his feet down. “Butter and salt, please!”

“And a beer?”

“And a beer!”

Though he had promised not to let it distract from the evening, and he intended to keep that promise, he still took the moment to check his work emails. A plethora of projects awaited his attentions come Monday morning. While his team kept Monday through Friday hours of the mostly standard type, that didn’t stop unofficial messages, questions, and replies from flowing after hours. It was the hazard of having linked his work account to the phone he kept in his pocket.

Of the half dozen missives he had available, only one seemed worth addressing at all, and he set to work at it. He could hear hushed voices in the kitchen, but didn’t concern himself with eavesdropping.

He was only halfway through his explanatory reply when a light commotion gathered his attention. Thumbs were still perched over the digital alphabet when he glanced up, catching sight of Sarah and Frank coming through the kitchen doorway, at the same time, shoulders squared abroad and taking too much space to be able to actually walk through.

“I’ve heard ‘one at a time’ works best, guys,” David sent over the top of his phone.

“Like this?” Frank spread his shoulders and elbows, thoroughly squishing Sarah, who let out a plaintive squeak.

“No, like _this_ ,” she countered, pushing Frank’s shoulder, his body turning flat to the doorframe, her own twisting to match. Settling his weight further into the couch cushions with a wiggle, David happily anticipated the scolding that Sarah was ready to dole out. It was delicious—when it wasn’t aimed at _him_.

Except that she didn’t lecture Frank. She did pretty much the opposite of lecture him. Instead, Sarah stepped closer, pressing way too close, one hand on Frank’s chest, not even a pointing finger in scolding, the other reaching up to grasp the side of his jaw and—

David bolted upright, but by the time his mouth was open to speak at all, Sarah’s was covering Frank’s, and none too timidly. She was _going for_ it. It took several more seconds for David’s brain to catch up with his eyes, and, additionally, with his dick, and he voiced his complaint. “That’s _cheating_!”

Unable to keep it up, Sarah pulled herself back, replacing the kiss for a fit of giggles. Brows high, mouth still agape, Frank looked between them. “What?” David could only offer a guttural noise in his throat, and Frank continued, “What, did you two have some kind of bet going on or something?”

Sarah’s eyes went immediately to David’s, even as she laughed, and David had to try to reconcile whether reality had broken or not. Hands on his hips, Frank also turned to David, on expectant look on his face that threatened to yank the truthful answer straight out of him if he didn’t speak it aloud, first.

“Uh… well, kinda, yeah…” He paused, confused, when Frank started to laugh, his broad shoulders shaking from holding it in. “Wait… you…” An accusatory finger waggled at the two of them. “You already knew that, didn’t you, you bastard.” David grabbed up a throw pillow, making it live up to its name by sending it flying at Frank’s dumb face. “You _knew_!”

Rather than have the desired effect of impacting the big doofus’ face, the pillow’s corner was snapped up by Frank’s thumb and forefinger, its momentum carrying it just slightly over his shoulder before he brought it back. 

David rolled his eyes. “Show off.”

“What a good idea,” Sarah drew out, plucking the pillow from Frank’s hands and crossing her arms to rest over it. “I think you two should show off. For me.” After a moment of shared silence, she added, slower, more enunciated, “You two… should kiss… while I watch.”

Leaving the two of them staring wordlessly, Sarah sauntered over to the easy chair, plopping down and settling her feet beneath her. To add encouragement, she made shooing motions in their directions. 

“Oh, it’s like _that_ ,” Frank aimed at Sarah, who only nodded, making _more_ shooing motions. 

David shook his head in amusement. “Apparently it’s like that.” For some reason, despite making an entire bet based on seducing Frank, David suddenly felt self-conscious at having been put on the spot. “I, uh…”

“Do I need to take charge of this?” It was a patronizing expression covering Frank’s features, and David didn’t appreciate that at all. The offer, on the other hand, he could appreciate somewhat. His dick could appreciate it, too, and it definitely was. 

Unfortunately—fortunately?—David had stayed quiet for _just_ too long, which had Frank striding across the room, only three long steps before he was in front of the couch. A second later, David had to lean back to stay out of Frank’s face, a muscled arm having darted past his head to brace against the top of the back of the couch.

“Do I?”

David’s eyes flicked towards Sarah, and he found himself blinking, momentarily stunned, as Frank’s free hand took hold of his chin, turning his head back forward. It was a solid grip, enough to squish his mouth a little, but not painfully. “You planning on manhandling me?” he asked, slightly distorted, after swallowing to rewet his throat. 

It was a one-sided shrug, with one arm still stretched all the way out. “I feel like I don’t need to.”

“There is a dramatic lack of kissing going on, right now,” Sarah’s flat complaint sounded from beside them. “Does it only work by accident? Or if you’ve been arguing?”

“I doubt that’s what it—Hey, when you say you _don’t need to_ … are you saying I’ll just like _roll over_ for you?” David’s brows pinched together, realizing he might have been offended just then. Maybe.

Frank’s hand stopped squishing him and instead patted his cheek. It felt patronizing. “I don’t think we’re quite there yet, today.”

David smacked the hand away, ducking under the opposite arm to stand up. “You know damn well that’s not how it was, before, either.” How dare he. In front of Sarah.

Past his view of Frank, David watched Sarah’s head tilt to the side, nearly taking her shoulders with it in the motion, and heard her thoughtful sound. “Have you two even kissed?”

“What do you _mean_ , have we—” “Didn’t you two talk about what—”

Sarah waved her hands over the pillow to get them to stop talking over each other. “Yeah, you fucked, I get it.” Spreading her hands in a short dramatic flair, she added, “But did you _kiss_?”

David looked at Frank. Frank looked back. 

David eyed the carpet. He was pretty sure Frank focused on a wall. 

“Oh my _god_ , you _didn’t_ , did you?”

Neither of them made eye contact with anything or anyone.

Sarah groaned in frustration, laying her head back against the easy chair’s top cushion. “David, how did you think you were going to win the bet? You know what,” she answered herself, “nevermind, because I bet your answer is that you were going to just suck Frank’s dick, isn’t it.”

It wasn’t a question, but he answered it anyway. “…Yeah…”

Frank’s face clearly conveyed that he wouldn’t have minded that outcome, and David shrugged, leading Sarah up off the chair and over to them. “Okay, you’re both hopeless.” Taking hold of each of their arms, Sarah guided them to turn and sit down on the couch, next to each other. “Looks like _I’m_ going to need to take charge, here.”

Frank’s brows rose high on his forehead. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Of _course_ you like that.” David shook his head.

“You don’t?”

“…I didn’t say that.”

Slender hands covered each of their mouths. “Done?” They nodded, and she continued. “David, do you _want_ to kiss Frank?” With his agreement, she turned to Frank, asking and receiving the same. “Good, now that there’s intent and consent, close your eyes and trust me.”

David’s eyes flicked to Frank’s, but they were solely focused on Sarah. He trusted his wife, of that there was no doubt. He trusted Frank, too. If only they hadn’t made it so awkward…

“Eyes closed, David.” Sarah’s voice was gentle, a reminder and not an order. Noting that Frank’s were already, David at last closed his eyes.

_____

Nimble fingers once again cradling the back of Frank’s head, he was guided forward slowly until his forehead bumped into David’s. It wasn’t harsh, not painful, more of a nudge, despite David’s noise of complaint. 

“Good,” Sarah breathed out from close to his left. Frank suspected she had sat down on the coffee table for a better vantage point. “Nose, now.”

Frank obeyed first, tilting his head forward and upwards to line the ridge of his nose up with David’s, finding himself amused at the jump in the other’s frame. To encourage more of those, he slid his nose along the length of David’s, well aware of the comparison that could be drawn from the motion.

“Oh, fuck you,” David muttered, earning a shushing admonition from Sarah, and a chuckle from Frank.

“Those weren’t the instructions, but if you insi—” Frank was cut short by David surging forward to cover Frank’s mouth with his own. It wasn’t gentle, more of a challenge and a physical urge for him to stop talking. He was content enough to trade for it.

Though his eyes remained closed, Frank was aware of the shift in Sarah’s posture, could hear the slide of material as her closed adjusted to the motion. Her fingers threaded further into the hair at the nape of his neck, and he had no doubt she was providing the same service to David. 

Answering the challenge, Frank bent one leg to draw up onto the couch, angling to better face David. His mouth had been inviting enough around Frank’s cock, and it proved pleasant against his own, as well. Pressing his weigh forward, he leaned David back towards the couch cushions, succeeding only a moment before hands pushed sharply at the fronts of his shoulders.

“Uh-uh,” David argued, eyes open and meeting Frank’s. “You’re not squishing me today, thanks.” 

Frank chuckled, only lighting pushing David’s chest, and still resulting in laying him out flat on the couch with a startled outcry. “I don’t ‘squish’,” he refuted.

“Okay,” David replied from his back, “squash. Pancake. Steam-roll. Flatten.” At each word, David slowly rose more and more back to upright, and at the last, he dared to pounce forward near violently. Frank found himself saddled by 180 pounds of uncoordinated eagerness as he allowed David’s momentum to carry them both back so that he was on his back, this time.

A laugh less punched out of him than was exhaled, and then shut up fairly quickly as David swooped down to ‘shut him up’ once again. Breaking the seal of his lips, Frank teased his tongue into David’s mouth, practically daring him to bite at it. He didn’t, which was probably for the best.

Keeping in mind the first time he’d found David splayed out over him, Frank half-smirked as he moved his knees, one to either side of David’s body, knowing full well he’d understand why _and_ that it would drop him straight onto Frank’s groin. It was a lot of sudden weight on his dick, but he took it with a grunt, trapping David by crossing his ankles.

Half gasp half yelp, and David had to scramble to keep from being plastered helplessly on top of Frank, and it was quite the amusing sight. Propped up with his forearms on Frank’s chest, David stared at him. “This is because I fell off your knee, that _one time_ , isn’t it.”

Grinning, Frank shrugged.

“It was ONE TIME!”

Light brown curls shook above his face as laughter shook Frank’s belly, shaking David along with it. 

“My show’s over, for now, isn’t it.” Sarah’s voice was a little disappointed, but mostly acceptance. Smacking David’s rear, she made another set of shooing motions at them, this time distinctly to _separate_ rather than come together. “Slide over so I can sit—we might as well finish the movie.”

With an indignant squawk, David started to worm his way upwards, not helped at all by Frank, who didn’t bother moving at all. Instead, he slipped his arms to rest back behind his head, watching. “You gotta…” a grunt of effort, “you need to let me _up_ , you jerk…” Hands on Frank’s hip bones, David was still struggling to free his legs.

Settling further into the cushion, Frank smirked. “Well, now I don’t feel like helping.”

Having apparently run out of patience, or perhaps merely sensing the opportunity, Sarah turned to sit down on David’s waist and rear, even with him still tangled with Frank. Crossing her legs, she braced her hands on them, letting out a sigh and using her toe to press the [play] button on the remote in front of her. “This works for me.”

David looked at Frank. Frank looked at David. It was clear they had the same plan.

Sarah’s shriek was sharp, fairly painful to the ears, but it was beyond worth their minor discomfort to have twisted her off of David, in between the two of them, and into a tickling attack that had them uncaringly missing the end of their movie for the battle it became.


	9. Chapter 9

Sarah had set the kids straight the day they’d asked for a definition of Frank’s relationship with their family. She hadn’t exactly given them what they’d asked for, but she’d made it clear that Frank was sticking around, that he was a valued part of the household, and that the kids should continue to respect him as the adult he is, while reinforcing the chain of authority.

That had been _before_ their competition.

Responsible enough not to work any of their games when the kids were in the house, they hadn’t yet addressed the subject of telling them any of the newer developments. They’d want a united front, she knew, which typically meant she needed to guide the discussion. Collaboration was important to her, but the men, well…

“Listen,” David repeated the word for perhaps the seventh time in the past few minutes, “it’s a simple fact of nature; there’s really no arguing it.”

Frank stared at him for a moment, blinking, his cheek twitching. “Nature?”

“Yeah.”

“ _Nature_.”

“Yeah, nature.”

Sarah leaned more of her weight onto the arm of the easy chair behind her, sipping a bit of rosé from a glass and firmly staying out of it. It had been a home day for the three of them, spending time together in a more relaxed way despite the kids having been carpooled to friends’ events.

“You want to argue _nature_ …” David nodded along in agreement, “when there’s an ocean…”

“Uh-huh…”

“… _under_ the ocean?” Frank sent one hand dramatically sliding beneath the other for emphasis.

Sarah stifled a giggle.

“Squirrels need air!” Miming the shape of a bathysphere, David doubled down. “It’s _nature!_ ”

“I mean,” Sarah swirled her drink lightly, feigning disinterest, “you’d think ‘nature’ would have a squirrel suffer from the pressure of being at the sea floor, too…”

Both men turned towards her, and though she didn’t look, gaze overly-casually aimed at her glass, she could feel their eyes on her.

Frank’s arm shot out towards her, in an emphatic motion. “That’s _exactly_ my point.”

“You can’t just side with _my_ wife!”

“If anything, _you_ should be siding with her.”

Glass empty, Sarah chuckled as she straightened, passing between them on her way to the kitchen. As if of one mind, both Frank and David spread out their arms, effectively trapping her in between them, a box made of limbs. Their hands met in the middle, and the shift in the debate’s tension twisted, aimed definitively at her. 

“Now, now,” cradling the glass, she crossed her arms, “I’m sure you can come to an agreement without me.” As she flicked her gaze between them, she could see their eyes meet, and in that moment, she’d already lost.

“Which is it, my darling wife,” David began, his voice heavy with a honeyed tone, “does natural law apply to Bikini Bottom, or is it all nonsense?”

“It’s a cartoon,” she pointed out. Frank offered a shrug, and David simply nodded for her to continue, anyway. “But I would say,” she drew her answer out, teasing them along, “that some rules are inevitably broken for the sake of humor.”

“What do you think, Frank… is that an answer?”

A low hum rumbled from Frank’s throat, and the space around her pinched closed. “I think she’s avoiding the question.”

The rest of the squeezed space disappeared, from the opposite side. “Who avoids a question from their husband?”

Squaring her shoulders perpendicular to their chests, Sarah prevented herself from being completely squashed. Although the thought did occur to her that they hadn’t quite explored that option, yet. Putting that aside for the moment, she raised her chin in challenge. “Who starts an argument about a children’s cartoon with their lover?”

Simultaneous refutations, rebuttals, and demurs sprang up from both sides of her as David and Frank held up their hands in defense, momentarily abandoning the concerted effort to pin her in. 

“Whoa whoa whoa…” accompanied by, “Now hang on just a minute here…”

Sarah took the opportunity to set her glass on the nearby side table, for safety’s sake. “You’ve a better word in mind?” she challenged.

“Yes,” David emphatically agreed. Frank made a motion for him to continue, his face showing his support. “It’s a _family_ cartoon.” A double thumbs up from Frank settled the matter.

A slow smile spread over Sarah’s face at hearing _which_ of her words was actually being contested. Far be it from her to argue the point, however. “And what is my motivation for siding with either one of you over the _family cartoon_?” 

The answer, apparently, was a coordinated attack on her neck, from both sides, nibbles and kisses that left her nearly squealing for them to stop almost as soon as they’d started. Hands pawed at her waist, much reminding her of eager teenagers. Soon enough, though, those wandering hands weren’t limiting themselves to _her_ body, the crossover cinching the three of them tightly together. Turning to face David, she raised his head away from her neck and ear, occupying his mouth with her own. Frank closed in tightly behind her, the extra body heat almost too much when added to David’s, and to her own flush from the wine and their touch. 

A thick nose nudged behind her ear, Frank’s breath sending shivers over her skin, raising the fine hairs at the nape of her neck. One of his strong hands ran its way down her side, in a maddeningly light pressure, before settling at her waist. Not abandoning her attentions on David, Sarah took hold of Frank’s hand, giving it a squeeze and pulling his arm around toward her stomach. His fingers gave a stroke, using the position to hold her closer to his frame, which had been exactly her intent.

With a purposeful wiggle, she encouraged David to pull her to his side, his hands covering her bottom and cinching their hold. Briefly, some of those fingers left their contact, and from the vibration of Frank’s throat, she was certain their absence meant he had found out how near to Frank’s rather obvious erection he truly was. Smirking, she leaned her head back to offer her husband a wink.

Frank took that opportunity to reach his free hand past Sarah to take hold of the bend of David’s jaw, his head following, compressing Sarah in order to press thick lips to his. It was a difficult vantage point from which to watch, but she reached a hand up to either side, forward and back, fingertips skittering over stubbles and beards, jawlines, ears, and fine curls of hair. Everything was very much too warm, but she wanted nothing less. That feeling, however, was fairly shattered in a moment.

“Holy shit!”

Zach’s voice rang out from the kitchen doorway, and it garnered immediate reactions from all three of them, in the form of a simultaneous admonition. “Language!”

That, also immediately, was followed by their bodies freezing in place, Frank’s hands still clasped at David’s jaw and framing Sarah’s hip, respectively, David’s clasped on Sarah’s bottom, and Sarah’s divided between the two of them. 

Not quite in perfect unison, three sets of eyes cast sideways, alighting on their children, backpacks slung over shoulders, standing slack-jawed in the doorway not ten feet away. David was the one who found his voice, first. 

“Holy shit.”

“Oh, but _I_ can’t say it?” Zach muttered under his breath, and Leo smacked his arm. 

Clearing her throat, their oldest went for de-escalation. “Uh… we should have texted, but uhm… we got done early, and Rashid’s mom offered us a ride, and…” Biting at her lip as she lost confidence, Leo hadn’t stopped staring at them. It was fair, Sarah could acknowledge, considering none of the three of them had moved an inch since being spotted in a rather compromising position. 

Not that there was anything _wrong_ with what they were doing. But what was right and what was understandable to an adolescent often shared an incomplete overlap.

“We should—” It was a quiet suggestion, and it had barely begun before both men seemed to catch her meaning immediately, disengaging the more familiar grasps in order to merely stand together. “Alright, so—”

Stopped again, this time it was at the absolutely gleeful, and possibly also smug, grin that lit up her son’s face. 

“He _is_ our new step-dad.”

Opening her mouth to argue the assessment, Leo stopped, looking to Zach, then back to the three of them, and over each of them in turn. “Wait… really? I mean, forget the legal stuff, but… really?” Sarah could hear as well as see the excitement radiating from her daughter.

Frank’s shoulder shook with laughter against Sarah’s, and she smacked his upper arm. “Not helpful,” she chided. Setting his backpack down, Zach kept the grin on his face as he headed into the kitchen as if there had been no confrontation at all. “Zach—”

“So is it all three of you?” Leo asked, her head tilted just-so as she thought it over. “Like, not just you-and-Dad and Dad-and-Frank?”

David huffed in exaggerated offense that thinly veiled his continued near panic. “No one is surprised by this?”

In return, Leo shrugged, and Zach called over his shoulder with a mouthful of the apple he’d gone to snack on, “Well they were all alone in that bunker for like, ever, and Dad didn’t have Mom there, soooo.”

“That’s not—”

“Kinda was,” Frank interjected, earning a death glare from David. Completely ineffectual. Zach snapped his fingers and pointed at Frank, and Sarah felt his laughter return even stronger. She was tempted nearly there, herself.

“Okay, okay,” she waved her hands to indicate she had the floor, and would not be interrupted again. “Have a seat, because we’re going to talk about this.” David turned and aimed himself for the couch, followed by Frank. “…I meant the kids, but go ahead.”

Leo giggled, bumping Zach’s elbow. “Told you. You can add a new dad, but Mom’s always in charge.”


End file.
